


Subtle

by babydragon7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydragon7/pseuds/babydragon7
Summary: “Cowboy. Tell me. Were you trying to get into my pants?”
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 164





	Subtle

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine. Do not own.
> 
> If I did I'd probably make them have sex all day long. 
> 
> I should stop writing, and start working, but those guys were frolicking in my mind. Go away plot bunnies!

It’s Gaby, who sets this in motion.

She came over to see Ilya couple of hours ago; now they are drinking vodka and watching TV. Ilya still cannot believe that’s something he can have that easily – the TV – of course, as well, he remembers all his unit gathering around the tiny screen, but mainly this leisure. Private apartment. Own bathroom. Best of all down time to spend with friends. Because that’s how he thinks of them now – Gaby and Cowboy. Speaking of…

“Cowboy could not make it?” He asks offhandedly.

“I did not tell I was going over to your place.” Gaby says and she is tentative all of the sudden and gets up from the couch to turn the volume of the TV down.

“I wanted to talk to you about Napoleon.” She says as she flops back on the couch facing Ilya.

“You have not noticed anything strange about him lately?”

“He… no. What’s wrong?”

“He hasn’t been on a date for a couple of months.”

It is strange.

“See. I don’t know how to tell you this. I have a suspicion… Promise me you won’t hurt him too bad.”

“I was not planning on it.”

“I think he is trying to seduce you.”

It’s a good thing Ilya has put his drink down already. Choking on vodka and dying would be such undignified way for a Soviet to go down.

“What?”

“He is staring at you. Like that. He is in your space all the time.”

Ilya has not noticed. However, his definition of ‘his’ space was admittedly influenced by rides in Moscow metro during rush hour. Also Napoleon was not a threat to him. Ilya could tell by now when he was lying, and he was not acting strange, just kept on being his usual chipper annoying self. 

“Ilya! He was hand feeding you sauce from a spoon the other day! He is flirting with you. He…what is the saying? ‘Wants in your pants’”

Now that Ilya thinks about it, the images come like a flood: Napoleon standing too close and fixing his tie, making him try some concoction or the other, mixing him a cocktail… Ilya colors. He remembers now that Cowboy actually pinched his ass the other day unexpectedly. The only thing that saved Napoleon own ass was a timely telephone call from Waverly. Ilya had already forgotten. But it was not… Not like it was…

Oh.

“I don’t get it,” Ilya says. “We are on the same side now. What would he gain by that?”

Gaby sighs. “Ilya. Maybe he just wants you. Not the information or missile plans.”

Gaby leaves sometime after that. Gives him a hug. At least Ilya thinks she does, it’s a bit of a blur. He does not really sleep well that night. He dreams of flashes of naked skin and warm hands and wakes to sun bright outside, vodka sweat and the horrible feeling of dread in his gut, churning and churning. His chest hurts. His thoughts run around on a treadmill. What does it mean? What should he do? Should he be offended? Should he be… flattered? Why him?

Ilya takes a shower, dresses up, has coffee and manages to eat something. He is not hangover, not really, but his head is not clear either. He can’t concentrate, and it’s good they have at least couple days until next mission, maybe he’ll figure something out by then.

Ilya sits heavily on a chair facing the door and gets ready to fight the next row of questions in his mind, when the door opens and Napoleon strides in – bottle of wine in his hand.

“Peril, you have to work on your security, a first grader could open this door.”

He takes a good look at Ilya’s face, closes the door and approaches him.

“What’s wrong, Ilya? Has something happened?”

He puts the wine on the table and reaches to touch Ilya’s shoulder. He flinches hard, and Napoleon stumbles back visibly hurt.

“What have I done now?”

Ilya groans.

“Cowboy. Have you… Were you trying to seduce me?”

“Subtle, Peril, real smooth.” Napoleon laughs. When he stops, swallows and begins uncertainly:

“I… no.”

“You were pulling all the moves.” Ilya stands up and start pacing. His chest fucking hurts, he really should go to the Medical one of these days. “You were staring and getting into my space, and spoon-feeding me, Cowboy.”

“It was not exactly…”

Ilya can’t stand it. He turns around and crowds Napoleon bodily moving him and pressing to the door, grabs his shoulders.

“Cowboy. Tell me. Were you trying to get into my pants?”

Napoleon swallows and Ilya should be so so angry, but Napoleon looks so unsure of himself none of his patterned swagger present.

“What were you thinking?”

How do they go on? What will become of the team?

“Ilya. Honestly… I was just trying to mess with you. Trying to get under Iron Curtain and feel up a bit…

Ilya laughs. It hurts.

“How do you make everything sound so dirty?”

“Special skill. Anyway. What I am trying to say, I tried to rattle you, but ended up rattling myself more...» He looks so exposed and all the fight drains out of Ilya. They are a mess, but at least they are a mess together.

Napoleon goes on.

“So. Have I been actively trying to seduce you? No. Was I pushing your buttons? Yes. Have I accidently gotten too deep myself? Absolutely. Do I want in your… Forget the phrase, it’s awful. I would settle for bed. But it’s got to be your call, Ilya.”

“What about that time you pinched my ass?”

“Well, it’s a fine ass and I have poor self-control… Figured out couple of bruises would be worth it.”

Ilya mock punches him in the shoulder.

“What do I do now?”

Napoleon hums.

“You could kiss me. If you want. All the same to me, really. I’m easy.”

He tries for playful, but looks more vulnerable than smug, and when Ilya brushes a kiss over his lips, he trembles.

XXX

They end up spooning on the bed naked. Ilya’s hand is sticky and so is Napoleon’s butt cheek. They probably need to get up sometime today, this week for sure.

“Why did you actually come today?” Ilya asks.

“Gaby called and told me you were all upset and it was probably something I’ve done, so I should go and make it up to you, pronto.”

“Well, you did that.” Ilya is as close to unmanly giggling as he ever was in his life. “But that explains it. Gaby was here yesterday.”

Napoleon turns around.

“Gaby the Matchmaker. Who would have thought? You and her… I was wondering.”

Ilya shrugs. “I love Gaby. We all do. She kissed me once and told me it was like kissing her cousin. She is great, and she is a great friend. Meddling.”

They are quiet. Napoleon looks pensive, like he is plotting, and Ilya is suspicious.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking we could go out and eat something. And after that I could ask a friend to show us a private, very private (Ilya thinks he means stolen) collection of Greek amphora and such. It’s very educational. Could give us ideas… you know.

Ilya does not. So Napoleon scoots even closer capturing one of Ilya’s legs between his own and putting Ilya’s hand on his ass. Then he whispers in Ilya’s ear and Ilya blushes and says, “Fuck”.

“Exactly”, Napoleon answers and Ilya pinches his ass in retribution. It is only fair.


End file.
